The Lullaby
by HoneyTwilight
Summary: In the midst of a thunderstorm, the young N. America twins look to England for comfort. In those fleeting moments of bliss, he vows to protect them. However, he cannot protect them from that call for independence.
1. Chapter 1

~The Lullaby~

_March, 1765_

Thunder rumbled above as rain poured down on the roof of the house. The pit-pat of the constant fall of droplets on wood was mesmerizing, slowly lulling me into unconsciousness. A flash of bright light would occasionally appear even through my closed eyelids, announcing the arrival of the deafening crash that followed. I was nearly asleep when a soft, childish voice snapped me fully awake. "Engwand? Awe you awake?"

I propped myself up on my elbows, looking at the door. Who stood there but two angelic blonde boys, both looking tired, and on one's part, scarred. What could I do but smile? America had a little pout on his lips, eyes leaky and red. His younger twin gripped his arm with a chubby fist, the other keeping a too-tight hold on his pet polar bear, Kumajirou. Both children's hair was disheveled, Canada looking like the child version of a battle-worn France, while America looked like me on any given day. Minus my eyes, of course. His eyes were a gorgeous blue that couldn't be described with words… The older of the two held the door open with one hand, thumb pale and prune-like from over-exposure to moisture. Namely, his mouth.

"I'm up. Come here, you two." I patted the empty spot next to me on my bed. With the raucous rumble of thunder above, the young Nations fled to my side as fast as the crackling lightning that came before it. America whimpered into my chest, quivering. Unlike his brother, Canada was handling it fine. I knew that his true fear was separation and abandonment… Poor kid. (1)

Back on topic. America shook, freezing every time a loud roar erupted in the skies above. "Uwaa… Engwand, I'm scaowed…!" I don't blame the kid. This was a pretty bad storm… I'd seen worse on the seas, so I was relatively used to it, but I'd forgotten how scary it was my first few times. And then, I was about the age equivalency of 14.

"Hush, hush," I said, rubbing his back. I breathed in the scent of his hair, the pine-like fragrance a comforting one. The boy looked up, lip trembling, his eyes filled with fear and moisture. He was still crying. I softly kissed his forehead, then put my own forehead against it. "It's okay, my little America… Everything's fine… Shh…" America sniffled, his crying beginning to cease.

"Engwand…" he threw his arms around my neck, clinging to me as if his life depended on it.

"You're alright…!" I laughed, prying him away so I might breathe. Thunder went off again, causing my young colony to yelp. "I'll allow no harm to come to you, my precious little America. That I swear." Canada nuzzled into my side. I'd almost forgotten he was there… "The same with my adorable baby Canada, too." My other colony smiled up at me, hugging my waist.

"_Autant que j'aime mon Pére, je vous aime trop, grand frère Angleterre_!" (As much as I love my father, I love you too, big brother England!) I smiled back.

"The same goes for me. Not the loving France part, but I love you too, Canada." I ruffled that soft, silky hair, which looked good even mussed. I was careful not to touch that curl, though. Yes, very careful.

America looked up at me with big eyes. "Does Engwand wuv me too?"

"Yes, my precious America. I love you. Both of you." I poked his nose, then Canada's. "To the moon and back."

"Weow, I wuv you to the SUN and back!"

"I love you to the stars and back, Big Brother England."

"I love you, the both of you, more than you could ever know." I held them tight to my bodice. At that moment, I wished we could all stay like this forever.

"Hey, Engwand?"

"Yes, my America?"

"Can you sing to us again? I wike it when Engwand sings. Like Canada would say, _trés beau_, or weaowy beautifow!"

"Don't you start talking in French too…" I giggled—yes, I giggled—and pushed a few stray strands of hair from his face. "Yes, I suppose I can sing to you…"

"One second," America said as he pulled away from me. He settled down near my chest after I lay on my side. Canada held one hand, and the other rested on the back of America's head. "Okay, now you can sing, _mon ami_!"

I shook my head at my charge, giving him a quizzical look. "Fwance towd me to caow you dat," he responded simply. I'd get mad about that pervert talking to my America and my Canada later. "Sing now, pwease?"

I smiled softly. "What shall I sing for you?"

"Ou-uh wuhwuhby!" (Our lullaby. Ain't it cute?)

I nodded. I loved the simple melody of that song. "Only if you'll sing with me."

"Okay!" both answered. The thunderstorm outside was now completely forgotten.

I hummed the beginning of the song. "_If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky. You can hide underneath me and come out at night. When I turn jet-black, and you show of your light_... _I live to let you shine_…"

"_I live to let you shine_," America and Canada sang in unison, perfectly on key.

"_But you can sky rocket away_," I touched Canada's nose, "_from_ _me_," I did the same to the other Nation-let. "_And never come back if you_," I threw out my hand to the window, then held them close. "_find another galaxy_."

"_Far from here, with more room to fly,"_ the boys answered sleepily.

"_Just leave me your stardust to remember you by…_" Canada had fallen asleep at this point. His grip on my hand slackened, and he rolled over to snuggle closer to Kumajirou on the far side of my over-sized bed. That was typical among us at bedtime. America, however, moved in closer to me. My entire world was this young child. Don't get me wrong, I love Canada, but he's technically France's. Those two remain tight, though they don't see each other often. But America… he's all mine. My baby brother, who I adore and love so much. The other Nations say I spoil him, but if it's America, he deserves every bit of it. I'm always gone with one thing or another in Parliament, leaving him all alone. My child… My brother. My little America. My life, my world. The one most precious and dear to me. I'm not sure what would happen if I lost him, somehow. I'll never let that happen, ever. I couldn't bear it if it did.

"_If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea. A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity." _we sang together, voices soft and tender. This was one of our moments. A moment of us. Just us, with none else around. Not one person near to ruin the deep connection between the two of us, almost the synchronization of our souls. Yeah, that was deep. But it's true, and I mean every word of it.

"_Ebbing_,"

"_And flowing,"_ I finished the phrase,_ "and pushed by a breeze."_ We were once again together. Almost as if it were our relationship. Together for a period, then apart for a short time, only to come back together again as one united force.

"_I live to make you free… I live to make you free… But you can set sail to the west if you want to, and past the horizon, 'till I can't even see you. Far from me, where the beaches are wide... Just leave me your wake to remember you by…"_ His eyes slid shut, breathing regulating into soft intakes every so often.

"_If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky, you can hide underneath me and come out at night. When I turn jet-black, and you show off your light. I live to let you shine. I live to let you shine… But you can sky rocket away from me, and never come back if you find another galaxy. Far from here, with more room to fly. Just leave me your stardust to remember you by... Stardust to remember you by…"_ My little America was now asleep, cuddled into my chest. I curled my body around him, as my eyes closed. I had no idea how much meaning those words carried, and I was about to find out, even if it was several years later.

Before finally fading, I whispered, "Good night, my precious America. I love you, so don't you ever leave me…"

--

_April 19, 1775_

My precious little America and my adorable little Canada weren't so little anymore. In the year I was gone, the two of them had shot up like weeds and grown into men. I wanted to cry; my little boys were all big now. Canada has become increasingly attached to me, while America… he seems rather annoyed by me. And then it happened.

I was merely sitting there, polishing my trusty Brown Bess musket, when America and Canada burst into the door, sparks flying.

"NO! America, I won't let you do this to him!"

"I have to! This has gone too far! Now get out of my way, Canada, or I'll have to use force. And you know that I'd rather not have to use it unless necessary."

"_Non_! You can't! I-"

"_Mon grand-chose Canada_, this is for the best. _L'Amérique a besoin pour ce faire_." (America needs to do this) Francis said upon entering the room, putting a hand on _my_ America's shoulder.

"_Père ...? Mais, non! Qu'en est-il le grand frère? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec vous?! Deux d'entre vous, vous êtes si cruel! Je vous hais!_" (Father…? But- no! What about big brother? What's wrong with you? Both of you, you're so cruel! I hate you!) Canada, my poor little Canada, was crying. France looked as if he'd been slapped, and my America looked absolutely clueless.

"What's going on?" I said, voice grave. "Whatever it is, I don't like it. France, get your bloody hands off of my charge."

"Ex-charge," America said icily, eyes narrowing. "These taxes, they've been dealt with for far too long! You've crossed the line, _Big Brother._" Those words were like venom on his lips, dripping with hatred and malice. "I'm declaring independence. I'm not going to put up with this any longer!"

Now it was my turn to feel stricken. My America… I… I was losing my America?

"And that's where _you've_ crossed the line, young man! What makes you think I'll let you have this 'inde-bloody-pendence' of yours?"

"I'm going to get it, one way or another, England. Even if I must war against you, if I must injure myself beyond repair, I _will_ have my freedom. I even have France here to back me up. Spain's on my side too."

I could feel my heart breaking by the second. First, he declares some stupid idea of seceding from me, and went as far as going to _France_ for help? The one I raised him to hate? And not only that, but he said he's come close to dying, just to be free of me. I felt my blood start to boil. Where was the love, the trust we had, not ten years ago? Was I the only one who remembered all of those some 190 years we spent together? This, this just hurt. You might as well have shot me, tied me to a pole, and then set me a fire in front of all my people, burning me alive amongst my screams as my flesh was scorched and eventually disintegrated into fine ash, only to scatter on the wind, leaving the crows to pick at whatever charred flesh remained on my bones. Oh, I'm sorry. Was that too graphic? Well, too bad. Screw being a gentleman—right now I was pissed, hurt, and confused. I was not going to lose my America, even if it killed me!

"This I will never allow. You are my charge, my response ability. You're my colony, and what I say, goes."

"…Consider it war, then." America turned, grabbed a bag from the foyer, then slammed the door shut behind him and France.

"Père?" Canada asked, voice heavy with sobs. He turned to me, tears still falling from his eyes. "England…" he stood up strait and tall, expression hardening. "I'm ready. I'm ready to face my brother, and _mon Père_. I'll be by your side through it all, _grand frère_. America needs to learn his place."

"Thank-you, Canada. I will never forget this."

Canada wasn't the only one to help. Prussia and Germany joined with me, as did my brothers (for once).

--

_After the American War for Independence_

I sat there, in the cold rain and sticky mud, for an amount of time only God could keep track of. Well, at this point, I was lying there in fetal position, the tears refusing to cease their race down both of my cheeks, red with both cold and tears. My eyes stung and felt puffy due to all of the crying I'd done. And where was Canada? He kept an arm around my shoulder as I sobbed my heart out, crying quietly to himself as he helped me through this ordeal. I felt as if someone had ripped out my heart… My precious little America was gone… Leaving me, standing here alone, with a broken heart. Canada was France's, and he will forever truly be France's. America was mine, and I blew it. He was gone, and he was not coming back.

I've decided to withdraw my forces from this cursed land now called the "United States of America", giving up my land in the area. It now belongs to the idiot child America, along with bloody France and Spain. The only one still talking to me is Canada. The only one who's ever loyally stayed to my side.

"_If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea, a depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity. Ebbing, and flowing, and pushed by a breeze. I live to make you free… I live to make you free… But you can set sail to the west if you want to, and past the horizon, 'till I can't even see you… Far from me, where the beaches are wide. Just leave me your wake to remember you by…" _We truly were the boat and sea… And that boat had set sail on a long, long voyage from my waters.

--

**(1) I thought that would probably be Cana-chan's fears, because of the whole ripped away from France thing. Poor kid, he has no idea what his future has in store for him.**

**OOC Alfie is OOC. I am sorry, but that's how I imagined it while reading this book on April 19th, 1775. *bursts into tears, for the 12th time today***

**Please excuse my terrible French. I am a Spanish/Japanese/Gibberish/Canadian-British-American English speaking American. I looked it up on three translating sources… So I tried my best. French is a very confusing language for me. Which is kinda bad, as I'm French-Canadian.**

**This was supposed to be released for the 19th, but I wasn't able to finish it in time. By the time I was half way done it was some ungodly hour of the night.**

**The song used in this fic was 'Boats and Birds' by Gregory and the Hawk. I didn't write it, as many people seem to believe. *cough MOM cough***

**There will be a sequel, but not as part of this story, because it has nothing to do with the lullaby… so Hani out!**


	2. Chapter 2

_After the War of 1812 (1)_

Canada, America, and I are on much better terms, now. Canada and America are speaking again, as are I and my former charge. I am still bitter about the whole Revolution thing, and he knows it. But at least we're speaking again… Though I know we can never had what we once did, there's something DEEP DEEP DEEP DEEEEEEEEEEEP down inside of me that wants us to be at least friends. But for the moment, I am mad at him. So meh to you, America. It's your fault anyways.

--

_World War II_

America and I are now allies. Though I'm still a bit bitter about the whole seceding deal, I'm not as mad at him. We're pretty good friends now. And hey, he even teams up with me in arguments. That's good, right? I hope so. Our relations continue to improve every day, for all he's become obsessed with being the 'Hero of the World'. That idiot, I swear to God, sometimes…

However, I can't help but smile when he actually does something good. That look of sheer wonder and joy… It's one of the only expressions he never changed following the Revolutionary War. Granted, I don't smile as often anymore, but I think that America should still be able to. Even if he broke my heart, all I want for him is happiness. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to see that smile from all of those years ago.

--

_June 2009_

That was a day I'll never forget.

As of recently, I've realized that I've fallen for that American idiot. Ever since he shattered our mother-child-like bond, I've said I hated him for destroying all that I had. In truth, he really was the only person I could say I truly loved, besides Canada that is. But as I've said many a time before, that boy is truly France's.

That's another day I'll never forget. When Canada asked for independence, I gave it to him. We remained good friends after that, too. But you should have seen what a tearful reunion he had with France. He rushed up to his 'father', shouting "_Père! Père!_", grinning from ear to ear. I don't think I've ever seen such a platonic love in my arch-nemesis' eyes. They truly loved each other, but as father and son. I think their relationship was more father-son opposed to America and my mother-son relationship. It was merely the rolls we took on as their overseers that gave it the parent distinction. And I'm sure you've noticed that Canada calls me '_grand frère_', or big brother. That's because he tried to call me '_Maman_', but I got a bit ticked off at being mother to France's father. So, he eventually settled on me being the big brother, and the bloody git to the south being his father. That sounded rather lewd, didn't it. *head-desk* Whatever. The only one I want down there is Ameri- Never mind. Back on topic.

I realized how I felt about him through France's constant pestering. Apparently, it's obvious that I'm hopelessly head-over-heels. I dunno, maybe it's always been this way. But I'll say it now, and I'll say it again. Just, never to his face, that is. I'm in love with America. And I think he knows.

"England~… Come to France-niichan, you know you want me~…" were France's words as he approached me after today's meeting, a dangerously lewd glint in his eyes. I knocked him to the ground easily, rolling my eyes.

"You know very well the only one who I want is America, France."

"But I want you~!"

"That maybe all very well in your world, but I love America and I'm not about to partake in, to quote Austria, 'the seizing of the vital regions' with someone who's not him. So if you don't mind, I'm going to meet Japan at the movies, we're seeing _Ponyo_ together with said beloved American and your little Canadian. See ya, France." I walked to the door with a dismissive hand, and opened the door. And who stood outside but a wide-eyed former charge of mine, who looked like he was about to enter the room but stopped upon hearing/seeing something. I froze myself. America over heard… me saying… to France… that I… loved him… Oh. My. God. "H-hey America!" I forced a laugh, of which was obvious.

"Iggy…" Curse Japan for giving him that nickname. It's quite annoying after a while. "did you really mean all that?"

"Mean all what?" I could feel my face start to burn. Shit. He knew.

"The stuff you just said! To France! The thing about loving me?!" there was a sort of needy insistence in those two big, beautiful, blue eyes.

"I assure you, 'Merica, that I said nothing of the sort."

"But I just heard you! You said-"

"Enough! Just drop it, America! I'll see you at the movies…" I left the room and him on that note.

"France, what…?" he began to ask.

"It's not my place to say, _mon cher_, but I can tell you that whatever you heard was true," I hate that git. Remind me to kill him later.

"England! Wait!" Now _there's_ something I haven't heard him say in years. Of course, I didn't stop for him. Quite the opposite actually; I sped up. But did that shake my ex-colony off of my trail? Of course it didn't. He ran up in front of me, and placed a hand on each shoulder. I glared off to the side, feeling color return to my cheeks.

"God, I hope you meant that," he said. What did he do next, you ask? He kissed me. America _kissed_ me. Me. England. You know, the one he constantly _insults_ and _bickers with_? And soon thereafter, I was up against the wall, wrapped up in his arms in a full-blown make-out session. Of course I kissed back! Even if warmth pooled in my stomach and headed south, who cares… I just wanted my America. My not-so-little, every-bit-as-precious America. Before it got bumped up a level, I pushed him off both for modesty and air.

"I love you, England," my heart's keeper said, tender emotion filling his voice.

"…iloveyoutooamerica…" I mumbled quietly, my face fully flushing once more.

"What?"

"I said I love you too, you bloody git!" I captured his lips with mine, pulling him into another kiss, only to pull away. "Now, we mustn't keep Japan and Canada waiting." I said, pulling the American along behind me.

--

_April, 2010_

We've been together now for almost a year. America was truly mine again, even if he was truly mine as my lover. Everyone says that we're completely dysfunctional, but I don't believe that's true. While I have somewhat of a mastery of words, America is far from that. Sure, he speaks almost every language in the world, but he has trouble expressing himself with them. His most fluent language is body language. I, for one, can tell you he certainly has a mastery over _that_. As can Hungary, but she's never been on the receiving end; she's only watched.

Everyday, our love grows, and I'm always learning something new about him. Like, his curl, like Canada's and the Italy's, has that special property to it. And, I learned that before he eats a hamburger, he actually turns the bun ninety degrees, to get a creamier result from the cheese. Then, every morning, he makes it a big deal to ensure that he's said good morning to me before he leaves. Even if it makes him late. He wakes up early, and goes to bed late. After being out in the sun for a day, freckles will emerge the next. He wears gloves so he doesn't get grease all over his fingers. To him, the day isn't complete without getting a little bit of affection from a loved one. In any form. Which usually leads to him tackling me to the ground during breaks, and constantly giving me a swift kiss on the lips. He's a character all right, but he's my character. My love, my life, my world. My ex-colony. But most importantly, he's my precious America. And I hope that will never change.

--

This is why I didn't put it in with _The Lullaby_. It seriously has nothing to do with it. But I spent 3 hours working on this part so…. Yeah. I hope you enjoyed it!

Ugh… I really need practice with romance. Well, I must get back to my IYSA story, to explain just why Iggy's so scared of being with Alfie. Ja!

~HaNiChAnTwIlI~


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